Chapter 3 - Collision
Neuengelstadt, 13. Herbstmond, 1027 n. d. B.
Sehr geehrter Graf Lacan von Wellenhafen,
es bringt uns große Freude zu hören, dass nach einem Jahr von Verfolgungen es endlich geschafft haben, die Dyade, welche wir einst fürchteten verloren zu haben, zu sichern. Nach mehr als sieben Jahrzehnten von Krieg mit dem Königreich der Ideale, der meinen Vater und dessen Vater überdauerte, der bis zurück in die Regierungszeit von König Sansa ging. Ein endgültiges und dauerhaftes Ende ist letztendlich zum greifen nahe.
Unser einziges Bedauern ist, dass der Verstand der Dyade vergiftet von korrupten Einflüssen sein wird. Sie würde flüchten, wenn du sie einsammeln kämst. Ich hatte gehofft, dass sie sicherlich vernünftig sein könnte, aber nach all den Geschichten die Sie über die Kreise in die sie im letzten Jahr geraten ist kennengelernt haben, ist es vielleicht das Beste, strenger mit ihr zu sein, bis diese kindische Unverschämtheit abgelegt ist.
Nach alledem wäre es zwar ideal, die Zusammenarbeit der Dyade vor der Operation Zündfunke zu sichern, aber sie ist für ihren Erfolg nicht unbedingt erforderlich. Wir und unser Reich können uns nicht den Luxus leisten, sie aus reinen
Gefühlslagen zu entgleisen. Es war schon ein Schicksalswunder, dass die Dyade hier in unserem Reich zu finden war und nicht im Königreich der Ideale, wie die königlichen Seher befürchteten, und es ist ein Wunder, welches wir nicht verschwenden wollen.
Daher ist es dringend erforderlich, dass die Dyade mit allen notwendigen Mitteln für die Operation Zündfunke eingesetzt wird, auch wenn Sie und das Fähnlein unter Ihrem Kommando die Gesetze und Gebräuche unseres Reiches verletzen müssen. Sie und ich wissen beide, wie gravierend die möglichen Folgen eines Scheiterns für dieses Reich sind, aber in der Bilanz liegt die größte Hoffnung, die das Königreich der Wahrheit seit Generationen hatte:
Was wir endlich „Unser Friede" nennen können, um dieses Königreich von seiner Herrschaft und den Kreislauf der Not zu befreien, der es durch die Jahrhunderte geplagt hat, und „Unsere Vergeltung", um die Wunden dieses Landes und dessen Bewohner mit Feuer und Flamme zu vergelten.
- Brief des Königs von Wahrheit, Siegmund Wieshusohn an Graf von Wellenhafen, Lacan Dragorans
"A toast! To a job well done, and to the generosity of the Roly-Poly Caravan!"
About an hour later, Myra's words boomed through the center tent of the bandit encampment in their little Pocket within Waterhead Cave as she nudged at a frothing mug of lager in full view of the gathered Outlaws inside. Cheers and laughs rang out as the Staraptor dipped her beak in and drank while the others joined in, a few scattered cries of 'Bottoms Up!' and the occasional 'Prost!' ringing out. The Outlaws had returned to the dungeon's modest Pocket flush with all sorts of ill-gotten gains: money in royal Carolins and Poké issued by the Colorswap Consortium, Orbs and Wands, lengths of cloth and metalware, a few stray discs that appeared to be 'tay-emms'—even some of the caravan's food and drink that they helped themselves to on simple wooden plates and mugs.
The caravan's Pokémon had had their own spirits, with Kate being particularly excited when a bottle of Glühwein turned up among the loot—somebody evidently had been impatient for winter to make a batch of mulled wine and bottle it before it was even Weinmond. There were the expected berries, dark bread, and the waxy Gummis that made up the bulk of the average meal for most Civils in Varhyde, and for all Lyle knew, Wander as a whole.
"Hey, Lyle, are you going to eat or what?"
Lyle blinked and shook his head just in time to catch Alvin finishing up a circular slice of a dark food flecked with lighter spots. Must've been from one of the dry sausages that turned up from among the loot.
While Lyle had to admit their smell made his stomach growl, he ultimately passed up on taking a portion while food was being distributed. Meat for Civils was made from the corpses of Wilders found dead in the hinterlands by Leichensammler like Alvin's family. Alvin had walked him through in the past over how his family processed their wares so that you couldn't tell what Pokémon the meat originally belonged to, and submitted to inspection by guards to ensure it was ethically sourced.
Still, nobody refused a bag of Carolins under the table these days. For all he knew, the meat in this sausage came from a Wilder that had been flatly hunted in violation of the Vow, or from someone who'd gotten knocked off in a town. With thoughts like those lurking at the back of his mind, he couldn't fully make himself comfortable with the idea of chowing down on literal mystery meat.
"Er… right, sorry. Just spaced out a bit," the Quilava replied, giving a bashful paw at the side of his head.
Lyle snagged a waxy orange morsel about the size of a Leppa Berry and bit into it instead. The Gummi wasn't anything to write home about, and from what he'd heard about what their base mix was composed of, he was sure he'd likely gag it up without the Tamato Berry flavoring it'd been made with. But Gummis had a consistent recipe that had been discovered just after human times in the early years after the Great Flash, one that didn't require the flesh of other Pokémon to make. They filled Pokémon up all the same regardless of species or diet, tasted tolerable from the berry flavorings they were made with, and didn't leave lingering queasy doubts over what on earth they just ate.
Though why was he even sweating all these details? There was a full plate of food right in front of him, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd had portions this generous. As soon as he finished his Gummi, he hastily went to work on another, and then the dark bread, eating loudly enough to draw the attention of the other Pokémon at his table: Kate, Alvin, and the Axew from the caravan. The Dragon-type seemed to recoil a bit at the Quilava's table manners, though his companions paid it no mind, with Kate cracking a knowing smile and giving a teasing poke of her claw.
"Well, somebody certainly doesn't have any regrets about coming along tonight," she teased. "Just don't fill yourself up too much yet. They're passing out the Lansat Berries."
Right, the main attraction that night were spiky orange berries carried off from among the loot that were currently being distributed among the tables. A few of them made their way to Lyle's table, the Outlaws' eyes lighting up from the rare treat with the visible exception of the Axew, who glanced about warily. Lyle took one of the berries from the center of his table, only to suddenly pause and examine it with a skeptical frown after he realized something was amiss.
"Wait a minute… what on earth would a merchant caravan need all these Lansat Berries for anyways?" he asked.
It was a fair question. Why between what they'd pulled from the caravan, they'd turned up enough Lansat Berries to plant an entire field, and not a small one either. Lyle had heard of 'mons who boiled berries into syrups for medicinal purposes… or recreational ones in the case of these Lansat Berries. But since when did merchant caravans get mixed up in illegal trades like those?
"Tch, don't sweat it," Kate scoffed. "It's got a great tang to it and it makes you feel great just holding it."
Kate probably had a point. They'd done good that night, and now was the time to enjoy the literal fruit of their efforts. The Sneasel bit into the berry, ruddy juice getting over her muzzle as she munched away to her heart's content. In between bites, she noticed that of all her teammates, the Axew was the only one who hadn't claimed a berry for herself, making the Sneasel tilt her head puzzledly at the Dragon-type.
"Aren't you going to take one, kid?" she asked. "I thought Axew like you were supposed to eat berries by nature, so I'd have thought you'd be all over these things."
The Dragon-type glanced over at the orange berry briefly, before turning away with a quiet frown.
"I'll pass. I'm more of a fan of Haban Berries anyways."
"Your loss, Axew," Alvin grunted. "I could go for seconds!"
The Marowak snatched the Axew's unclaimed Lansat Berry, greedily tearing into it as the Axew looked down and pawed uneasily at her scarf. With his plate now more thoroughly cleared and his own Lansat berry reduced to its inedible pedicel, Lyle turned his attention to his mug as Kate reached for another Lansat Berry for herself. The Quilava raised the wooden vessel to his mouth and paused as he watched the Dragon-type pull out a small, gray pendant around her neck that looked like some sort of dart or triangular top with black and white stripes running about it. Lyle put his drink aside for a moment and looked over curiously, shifting his eyes between the Axew and her pendant before he spoke up.
"So do we get a name to call you by?" he asked. "I mean, I suppose we can stick with 'Axew', or 'Milza' if you're the formal type, but I figured that'd be a bit cold given that we're eating at the same table together."
The Axew said nothing for a moment, before shaking her head back with a sharp frown.
"Call me 'Irune'," she said. "It's the name I'm most comfortable with."
Lyle quirked a brow at the Axew, as Kate and Alvin looked over. The Sneasel of the pair remarked to herself about how something felt strange about the name, and in a sense it was. After all, the dragon had only given one part of her name in reply.
"... Just a bare name?" he asked. "I mean, I'm not expecting you to blurt out your Vatername to me, but hearing your Beiname and what others know you for as a 'mon would help-"
Lyle was cut off by a sharp snort and saw the Axew shooting an askew glance back at him.
"Don't get me wrong, Quilava. I'm thankful for your and your friends' help, but I don't exactly know if I can trust you yet," she harrumphed. "Pokémon don't share their full names with random strangers. I'd expect an Outlaw of all 'mons to understand that."
Lyle frowned back at Irune. He would've hoped that saving her hide would've counted for something for trust, but it was hard to fault the Dragon-type for wanting to keep things close to her chest. He'd done much the same since he first dipped his paws into banditry. Even so, she surely had something to talk about, didn't she?
"Fair enough, let's try a different topic then," the stoat offered. "That thing you're wearing around your neck. What's it for?"
Irune clutched at her pendant and hesitated for a noticeable moment, before looking back at the Quilava and speaking up in a guarded tone.
"... It's a memento," she replied. "To help me remember something important that I'm looking for."
Lyle flattened his ears out at the Axew. For a 'mon who owed them her freedom, she sure was tight-lipped about what she'd done to get into trouble—but no matter. If she insisted on playing coy with questions, there was more than one way to pull an answer out of a 'mon...
"And just what would that be-?"
"Hey."
Lyle caught himself at the sound of a Heliolisk's voice, turning along with his fellows at his table to see Dalton and Artem approach and take places at two vacant seats. The Heliolisk of the pair hesitated and pawed at the back of his head uneasily, before speaking up.
"It's Lyle, isn't it?" he asked, making the Quilava shoot a wary glance back across the table before replying.
"Yeah. Something up?"
Dalton kept a long, straight face at the four for a noticeable pause. The Heliolisk's features eased and he shook his head, speaking up with a click of his tongue and grudging sigh.
"I just wanted to say thanks for you and your friends' help in the raid earlier," the Electric-type said. "You really came in handy when those guards cornered us."
Artem ruffled his feathers and looked away uncomfortably for a moment. For all the attitude the Heliolisk and Swellow had towards them earlier that evening, they both clearly felt uneasy not giving credit where it was due.
"Yeah, if it wasn't for you three, we'd probably be stuck in the infirmary tent right now with those 'mons that got chewed up out there," the Swellow added. "Especially that Mismagius from your crew. That Aerodactyl from the caravan really did a number on her."
A chill came over the gathered Outlaws at the table. Their job had gone off without anyone getting captured, which was more than what most ambushes of this scale could hope for… but at the same time their victory hadn't come without cost. The Quilava thought back over the night's events, realizing that if not for a few strokes of fate, he and his friends would likely be too wounded to enjoy the food and drink set out before them. Or worse, left behind in the caravan if they'd failed to rout the defenders.
The Fire-type quietly breathed a quiet sigh of relief that luck had smiled on them, even with Varhyde's gods slain, perhaps there was still someone out there looking out for them. Just what he'd snatched for himself in his bag would be enough to get by into at least the onset of winter in Nebelmond, and if he hung around Alvin's friends on the Terra Tyrants for the few days it'd take to fence the rest of their takings, he'd surely get more. Why, with the amount of loot they took in tonight, his share would surely be enough to get him through to the start of next spring. Perhaps longer if he managed to stay frugal and avoid the vices of gaming and drink that his fellows on the Foehn Gang used to be fond of.
"So what is it that you're looking for anyways, kid?"
Lyle blinked as he noticed that Alvin had turned and was eyeing Irune warily. The Axew shrank back briefly, as the Marowak cradled his club and gave a small frown down at the Dragon-type.
"You never did answer Lyle's question earlier," the Marowak reminded. "I get that everyone needs to be able to keep secrets sometimes, but nobody needs to be that tight-lipped."
Alvin's eyes fell onto Irune's pendant, as she hurriedly tucked it back under her scarf. Whatever her attempts at trying to hide it from his attention, it had only made it more noticeable to him and made him tilt his head skeptically.
"And since when did anyone keep little stone spikes as a memento?" he asked. "Is that supposed to be a key of some sort?"
Lyle noticed that Irune seemed to stiffen up and pawed uneasily at her shoulder over Alvin's prodding. Why on earth was she this hesitant to give a straight answer anyways? He watched as the Axew fumbled with her words briefly, as a sharp voice from behind pricked his ears.
"Hey, Kate."
Lyle saw Dalton and Artem turn and look up, and followed their gazes along with Kate, as she paused and pinned her ears back. There, in full view of the entire encampment was the Mistral Marauders' leader Myra walking up to their table. The Staraptor turned her head and glanced over at the Axew sitting beside him, leveling a wingtip out at the Dragon-type.
"I didn't remember seeing your Axew buddy from earlier, and she's not wearing any of our colors," the Staraptor said. "Who is she and what is she doing here?"
Irune squirmed and shrank back from the hawk's obviously inhospitable demeanor. Kate looked at the Axew briefly, before turning back to her superior with a dismissive wave of her claw.
"Psh. We found her locked up in one of the wagons," the Sneasel said. "She was obviously no friend of anyone from that caravan, so I figured there wasn't any harm in letting her tag along."
"Is that why they also held onto a bag belonging to her instead of trashing or looting it?" Myra asked. "Can't say we found anything else from the caravan with Axew scales on it."
Kate set her teeth on edge as Myra held out a satchel on her wingtip, her Quilava and Marowak companions doing much the same. Irune's eyes abruptly widened at the sight of the bag, as she tried to jump over the table for it. Myra pulled the bag up with a muffled yet audible rattle, leaving the Tusk Pokémon to slip over the edge with a yelp and faceplant onto the ground.
… What on earth was in that bag to make Irune react like that? Did she have her soul stuck in a jar inside or something?
Evidently Lyle wasn't the only one who found the young dragon's reaction to be strange. The outcry put a damper over the festivities as Ford and Parker turned to stare at the table, along with what seemed like half of the three Outlaw bands' combined headcount. Lyle shot a sideways glance at Irune as the Axew got up and nursed her snout, all while Myra narrowed her eyes down at the little Dragon-type.
"Curb your enthusiasm there, kid," she said. "I'm not just giving this back until I'm sure we can trust you."
Irune looked up, and gave a pouting huff back at the Staraptor, at once seemingly unnerved by the much larger and imposing hawk while attempting to force a brave face over her features. Lyle couldn't tell if the kid was bold, or just plain stupid to try and pull this sort of attitude on an Outlaw of Myra's stature, and thought of getting up to pull her back only for the Axew to pipe up in protest.
"I- I really don't see why you're giving me such a cold welcome! Everyone here's an Outlaw, and I'm also one too!"
The entire tent fell silent as soon as Irune's words left her mouth, the Dragon-type suddenly finding herself at the center of attention of what must've been forty sets of eyes all about her. Lyle and his companions at the table traded puzzled glances at each other over the Axew's reaction. What on earth was Irune hoping to accomplish getting so lippy with one of the bosses? It wasn't as if she had superior strength or obvious experience going for her right then. Myra didn't seem particularly impressed with the Axew's outburst either, as the Staraptor stepped forward and leaned in with a sharp scowl.
"Then why don't you answer a few questions here in front of your fellow Outlaws," the Staraptor insisted. "Don't worry, we don't bite… often."
The Axew audibly gulped before following after the Flying-type into an open space at the center of the tent. Square in the line of sight of the entire encampment's worth of Pokémon… and their line of fire if their mood soured. Lyle couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for the Dragon-type as she fidgeted uneasily for a moment, before she summoned her nerves and spoke up to the bandit leader.
"Wh-What do you want to know?" she asked.
"Who are you?" Myra questioned. "And whose pattern is that that you're wearing on your neck?"
"I'm Irune, from…" the Dragon-type began, before trailing off to herself and fumbling with her words.
"Well… admittedly it's a bit hard to keep track of places after moving from one encampment to the next…"
Irune paused and visibly blanked for a moment, before shaking her head and piping up in reply.
"But the scarf belongs to the Balance Bandits," the Axew insisted. "It was a smaller gang, but they were a bunch of up-and-comers around these parts before those blasted Grünhäuter caught up with us!"
Myra blinked a moment as a few stifled laughs and snorts came from the gathering of bandits, including from Lyle's own table as he looked and saw Kate snickering at the Dragon-type's reply.
"The 'Balance Bandits'?" the Sneasel said. "Gods, I don't blame her for being tight-lipped with a dweeby name like that!"
Myra gave a bemused smile, before stooping down and pressing on in an audibly disbelieving tone that sounded much like a mother Ambipom would right after catching her child with his tail still in the sweets jar .
"Mm-hmm, I'm sure you were," the Flying-type said. "And tell me, just what did you and the 'Balance Bandits' do to get in such trouble, hm?"
Irune opened her mouth and hesitated a moment, this time seemingly already having an answer in mind but unsure of whether or not to offer it. After a brief pause and a shake of her head, the young Dragon-type dug her feet into the ground beneath her and piped up adamantly.
"I... was working on a plan with them to clear out the treasure of the Divine Roost!" she insisted. "The army's taken an interest in… uh, things from there and they snatched me up over it!"
Raucous laughter broke out around the gathering, as even at his own table, Lyle noticed Kate laughing hard enough to be blinking tears back, and Alvin let out an unstifled laugh of his own. Back in the center of the tent, Irune looked about as the chorus of laughter washed over her, her cheeks flushing a deep, flustered red as Myra shook her head with a dismissive scoff.
"Yeah, okay then. Just sit down and shut up for a while, rookie," she scoffed. "You'll need to work on being able to tell a convincing fib if you're planning on impressing anyone with a story like that."
Myra shook her head and threw the bag at Irune's feet with an audible clatter before shuffling back off to the festivities' food and drink. The Axew gave a sour scowl after the Staraptor before hurriedly snatched up the satchel, beelining back to Lyle and his companions' table as she let her bag drop by her seat with a frustrated growl.
"I'm telling the truth!" she fumed. "Why doesn't anyone here believe me?!"
"It is a bit of a hard tale to swallow," Dalton cut in. "You might as well have said the army was after you because you're a human who can see visions of the future."
Irune seemed to flinch for a brief moment at the charge, before giving a sour frown in reply. Dalton gave a small shake of a half-finished pint, before shooting an unimpressed stare across the table at the Dragon-type.
"Really now, if the army really wanted anything from the Divine Roost, they could've just walked into it and helped themselves to it," the Electric-type insisted. "The deities that once made use of it died years ago in battle after the gods of Varhyde and Edialeigh took to the field to help with the war."
"I know that," Irune shot back. "But they don't know where everything is from that shrine. And from what I heard…"
She suddenly quieted down and glanced around warily. After being convinced that no one outside the table could hear her, she leaned in and spoke up.
"They think those gods that used to roost there recently came back from the dead!" the Axew whispered. "And the army's looking for ways to get them to fight on Varhyde's side."
Dalton and his Swellow partner looked over at the Axew with askew glances, before the Flying-type of the pair ruffled his feathers and let out a sharp, dismissive chirp.
"Pah, that whole 'reincarnation' yarn? For all we know, it'll be a thousand years before we get replacements for those dead gods," Artem scoffed. "If that's what the army's pinning their hopes on to turn the tide of the war for them, they're in deeper trouble than I thought."
A dark scowl seemed to settle over the Heliolisk's face briefly after his Swellow companion spoke. Even if Dalton had come off as a bit of a stuck-up from their first encounter, seeing his mood turn like that was still surprising.
Lyle blinked for a moment, wondering why the topic of the army's incompetence would've soured the Heliolisk's mood so. From the way he talked about Grünhäuter earlier, he'd have expected the Heliolisk to join in with his buddy to make some sort of quip or joke at their expense, but it was as if he was... bitter about something. Lyle debated for a moment whether to ask further, only for Dalton to make the matter moot by letting out a sharp scoff and grabbing his mug.
"Hrmph, we've got better things to do than pick apart some rookie's tall tales, anyways," Dalton remarked. "Come on, Artem."
The Heliolisk and Swellow finished their drinks and brusquely headed off from the table. Lyle and his companions looked after the pair, before the stoat took a deep drink from his mug and shook his head back to Irune with a low sigh.
"Look, whatever really happened, you don't need to make up some sort of story to impress us," the Quilava insisted. "We won't pry into things for now. After all, you're in the same boat as the rest of us anyways."
Irune frowned back at Lyle for a noticeable moment, before hanging her head in defeat. The Axew let her gaze drift towards the table with a low pout.
"I suppose I can't argue the point," she murmured. "But I really didn't make any of that up…"
"Just focus more on having a good time, alright?" the Quilava asked. "You just busted out of a prisoner transport, enjoy your freedom a bit-"
"Eyaah! Get away! Get away!"
Lyle, Kate, and Irune fell dead silent as they saw a Togedemaru in a Roly-Poly Caravan scarf run by. Behind him was a Thievul and a Duraludon in Terra Tyrant colors in hot pursuit. The pair caught up with the rodent, only for him to shock them with a startled squeak and continue running as Irune gaped at the fleeing Pokémon with a tense grimace
"Isn't that one of the Togedemaru from the caravan?" she asked, making Lyle stare blank-facedly at the fleeing Electric-type.
"What in the-?" he started, only for the Duraludon to look up at Alvin and give a sharp, baying shout.
"Alvin! Don't let him get away!" the Dragon-type snapped.
Alvin sprang off his seat just as the Togedemaru approached. The spike ball froze and tried to get around the Marowak only for him to swing his club and strike the Electric-type across his face. The Roly-Poly Pokémon crumpled to the ground with a pained moan, as the Duraludon and Thievul hastily bound up the Electric-type and drug the hapless creature off kicking and screaming
"Kidnapper! Kidnapper! H-Help!"
"Gah, where's that stupid rat's gag again?" the Thievul grumbled.
"'They're small and easy to keep penned up,' he said. 'Their patrons will pay their weight in Poké to free them!' he said," the Duraludon growled. "Cripes, what on earth was the Boss thinking when he said that? Why didn't he have us snatch those Pullers from the caravan instead?"
Lyle froze and felt his blood run cold. The- The Terra Tyrants were holding Pokémon for ransom?
That was a crime far riskier to be involved in than simple robbery, and one he wanted nothing to do with. The revelation had similarly alarmed Kate and Irune, and the festive atmosphere of the gathering had come to a screeching halt as Myra and Parker had recalled their underlings from their seats to pack up their shares of the loot and get moving. Alvin uneasily pawed at his shoulder and gave something approaching an apologetic look, as Lyle gave a disgusted snort, hopped off his seat, and snatched his bag up from the ground.
"Lyle?" the Marowak asked. "Where are you going?"
"I'm taking the cut I already have and getting out of here," the Fire-type huffed. "I didn't sign up with your crew for this, and I'm leaving before this all blows up in everyone's faces."
"Alvin, why didn't you say that Ford dabbled in snatching?" Kate questioned. "This is going to draw a lot more heat than a simple robbery!"
"I-I didn't know we were going to do that tonight, alright?!" the Ground-type insisted. "I thought that this was just going to be a normal smash and grab!"
"'Normal'?!" Lyle exclaimed. "You mean this isn't the first time the Terra Tyrants have done something like this?!"
The Marowak hemmed and hawed for a moment, before pawing at the back of his head.
"I mean… I didn't really keep track or ask too many questions, so... Maybe?"
From her end of the table, Irune slid off and grabbed her bag with a faint rattle, clearly shaken by the revelation. The Axew looked about uneasily, seemingly expecting the ceiling to cave in at any moment as she muttered nervously back to the other Outlaws.
"I- I should really leave right now," she stammered. "I was a fool to think that I'd somehow be able to hide with you-"
"Look, simmer down, everyone!"
Irune was cut off by the sound of Kate's voice crying out, as she and her compatriots about the table looked up to see that the Sneasel had hopped onto it and was waving her claws for attention. The hubbub about the Pocket died down for a moment, as some of the Outlaws stopped to hear out the Dark-type as she raised her voice to speak.
"Look, we're in the Pocket of a Mystery Dungeon a full six floors down!" she insisted. "Even if the Terra Tyrants are involved in riskier business than normal, it's gonna take time for anyone to just find this place!"
Just then, a startled yelp rang out from the front entrance of the Pocket, a Watchog running up wide-eyed, and gesturing in alarm at the fog-filled passage beyond.
"There's someone in the mist-!"
The lookout never finished his words, as a large plume of fire abruptly sailed in and sent him flying headfirst into a crude lean-to. A hulking blue figure with red wings, white segments of shell on his underbelly, a metal band with notches around his right foreleg, and segments of green armor plates along his body whose clatter evidenced they'd been built around a layer of mail rushed out, flying up near the ceiling of the Pocket before letting out a bellowing roar.
"This is the place! Mow down anyone you see!" the Salamence barked. "The Dyad is somewhere here among them!"
He dove down, striking the earth just in front of the tent and churning the ground with a violent tremor. The next thing Lyle knew, he and his fellow Outlaws about the table were thrown from their seats, pitching to earth with the remains of their food and drink as they heard the table and seats get thrown about along with yelps and shouts from all around.
Lyle righted himself with the wind knocked out of him and the table knocked over onto its side, seeing Kate and Alvin hurriedly helping Irune up as confused cries rang out in the background. Amid the din, he heard the sound of shattering glass ring out, and saw yellowish orbs raining out over the encampment, followed by another that kicked up a blinding flash that erupted from the other end of the table.
The next few moments went by in a muddy daze. As the light from the blinding flash cleared and their vision stabilized from his spinning head, he felt Alvin tugging at him.
"L-Lyle! Snap out of it already!"
Lyle blinked in a daze and looked past the table, where he immediately noticed that their makeshift gathering hall had all but been destroyed. The sight of a Corvisquire in green armor flying by revealed that even worse, more Pokémon had followed that Salamence out of the Pocket's fog-shrouded entrance. The lot of them snarling and throwing an overwhelming array of ranged attacks, orbs, and seeds deeper into the Pocket at their fellows in the encampment, many of whom were visibly tottering in confusion or fatigue from the sudden ambush. After peeking past the table, Irune shrank back, the Axew's face flushing pale as chaos erupted all about them.
"I-It's too late…"
Kate and Lyle stared blankly for a moment, before Alvin sharply prodded at them with his bone and motioned for them to follow.
"There's a second exit at the back of the Pocket!" the Marowak insisted. "Come on, hurry!"
Lyle needed no further prodding and immediately sprang onto his feet. The four bolted from behind their upended table just as a Blast Seed sailed in and reduced it into charred splinters. Lyle ducked and his vents flared to life in a panic as a splintered piece of wood zipped overhead, a quick glance over his shoulder revealing Myra and Ford rushing to the front with some of their stronger subordinates to try and stop the soldiers' advance.
G-Gods, that last night with the Foehn Gang, the worst-case scenario he'd been dreading since leaving his berry field for Waterhead Cave. All of it was happening again. H-How on earth did they even get found out like this?! Had these 'mons seen the flare after all and spotted a straggler from their group dipping back into the Mystery Dungeon?!
A glance back revealed a number of Outlaws converging together from the skirmishers, throwing up screens of light that they held up to block incoming attacks, with others massing behind them to lob Blast Seeds and Orbs from behind their cover. The impromptu shield wall was hardly an airtight defense, as Lyle hastily sidestepped an incoming Silver Spike, charging ahead with his head lowered as the din of battle rang out about them. The Fire-type turned back to Kate as they fled, shooting a sharp glare over at her.
"What was that about it taking time for someone to find this place?!" Lyle demanded.
"It was a bit shorter than I thought, okay?!" she exclaimed.
Lyle flinched after hearing the sounds of a scuffle and a pained scream ring out from ahead. He felt Kate grab onto him to pull him back as the two skidded to a stop after seeing Alvin and Irune freeze in front of them as a Pinsir was thrown across their path. The beetle hit the ground and sprawled out groaning incoherently with an ugly crack in her exoskeleton that dribbled yellow fluid. A quick glance to their left revealed a Heracross and Dusk Lycanroc in green army plates stepping out with low snarls, evidently having slipped past the defensive lines to flank them. The four braced themselves, when the pair of soldiers suddenly froze after their eyes fell upon Irune and they recoiled with a visible start.
"Ah! That's the Dyad!" the Heracross cried out. The Bug-type's Lycanroc partner narrowed her eyes, crouching against the ground with a low snarl.
"Mop up those Outlaws and grab her!"
Lyle dove out of the way as the Heracross lunged forward, throwing a sharp chop with a tarsus that found its mark on Kate's chest. The Quilava watched as she tumbled back with a yelp, as he fell back and bounded over to Alvin to try and close ranks. The Marowak charged ahead with a bellowing cry, swinging at the Bug-type's head with his club and Lyle pushed fierce fire out of his body's vents. Deep breaths, the soldier was big, but he was a bug, and he'd burn just like any other one. Lyle felt build up at the back of his throat, and breathed out, only to feel a crushing blow from his side that knocked him off his feet.
Lyle coughed up smoke and stray cinders, reeling as his rattled mind gathered he'd been tackled. Except tackles weren't supposed to hurt like that.
"Where do you think you're going, stoat?!" a growling voice shouted.
Lyle grimaced and rolled onto his feet—looking up just in time to see that his attacker had been the Lycanroc right before she struck him again with a second swift, dashing ram. Lyle abruptly crumpled to the ground wheezing and gagging from the blow. It felt as if he'd been hit by a sack of stones, and considering his attacker, maybe that wasn't too far from what had actually happened.
From his place on the ground, the Quilava tried to curl up his body defensively and flare out his fire to drive the wolf off, only to see Irune from the corner of his eyes run up and run a tusk into the Rock-type's foreleg. The Lycanroc yelped in pain before Irune flicked her head to the side and ran her other tusk into the same leg, the Rock-type wincing and tripping after losing her balance as Irune hopped back and motioned to Lyle to follow.
"C-Come on! Get up! We can make it to that other exit if we keep running!"
Lyle started forward, when he heard Alvin's voice yelp and turned to see the Heracross knocking him over and pinning the hapless Marowak. The Quilava went wide-eyed and reflexively dashed at the Heracross, striking the back of the Bug-type's head with a fiery tackle that made a rush of adrenaline shoot through his veins. His limbs grew looser, their movements swifter, as Lyle watched the impact of his Flame Charge force the beetle off with a sharp yelp as he cried out to his teammates.
"Now! Get him while he's down!"
They seemed to have heard him loud and clear. Alvin used his newfound freedom to tighten his grasp on his club and smash the underside of the Heracross's head. The Heracross flinched and attempted to curl and shield himself, when Kate ran in with a sharp slash of her claws across the beetle's face and made the Heracross slump over limply. The three panted disorientedly for a moment from their encounter, only to be snapped back to attention by the sound of Irune letting out a piercing scream.
"A-Aah! Let go of me!"
Lyle turned with his teammates and saw Irune's bag lying on the ground with the Axew being held aloft by the Lycanroc nipping at the knot of her scarf. The wolf began to carry her off as she flailed desperately to try and break the Rock-type's grasp, but to no avail.
"Rgh… Mission accomplished," the Lycanroc spat. "I'll let the others deal with you jerks-"
"Not so fast, Grünhäuter!" Dalton's voice cried out.
Lyle jumped back as a weak jolt of electricity zipped in and made the Lycanroc recoil and her limbs lock up, the Lycanroc freezing and stiffening up with a yelp. Sure enough, Artem swooped in shortly afterward, the bird barreling in with a spread-wing tackle that carried an almost metallic glint that struck the Lycanroc in her neck. The Swellow's blow made the Grünhäuter lose her grip on her Axew captive, who hit the ground and scurried to her feet as the Lycanroc tried to keep her footing. Lyle reflexively darted ahead to come to her aid, when he saw blue dragonfire built at the back of the Axew's throat. Before he could say anything, she disgorged it into the Lycanroc's face, sending her flopping to the ground unconscious as Irune spat disgustedly to her side.
"Pass that on to that awful Graf of yours!"
Lyle froze from his place behind Irune as she hastily recovered her bag. Graf? How the hell would she know these 'mons were bossed around by a noble, let alone his title? The only way would've been if she'd run into these army 'mons before. They had come because of her! The Quilava opened his mouth to speak, only for Artem to cut him off with an impatient squawk.
"Oi hurry it up! Those Grünhäuter just broke the defensive line!" Artem shouted. "Boss Parker's keeping the exit open, but she can't hold out forever!"
"Right!" Lyle called out. "We're coming!"
Lyle lowered his head and bolted forward as Irune ran along with Artem and Dalton. Kate quickly overtook his pace with her kind's natural swiftness, stopping briefly to snatch up a smaller bag of loot that had been dropped in a hurry, and Alvin tore along behind him. All the while, attacks flew about the encampment as the exit came into view, a few visibly panicked Outlaws managing to make it through the gauntlet and hurry past a small defensive line consisting of Parker and a few others in her garb who alternated forming walls of light and into the foggy beyond. A couple others stopped to try and help wounded and fainted stragglers through, while still others attempted to go back for some of their ill-gotten gains to carry off in their retreat.
A loud roar and the sound of churning air overhead turned his attention to Myra wheeling in the air above, with the Salamence's form barreling after her. The three blanched and dove behind an upended tent for cover, peeking out as they saw the Salamence circle the Staraptor. Now that they had a clearer view, they got a good look at the drake's scarf and blanched. It had the same white background as the one of any other Grünhäuter, but with two gray chevrons, with the top merged into a diamond enclosing a blue crystal that made Alvin flinch and tighten his grip around his club with a wide-eyed stammer.
"G-Götterblut! What sort of Grünhäuter is that?!" Alvin whined. "I thought only Stabsoffiziere had blue on their scarves!"
Why in the hell would someone that high-ranked from the army be here?! Lyle craned his head back in the direction of the Pocket's main entrance. There was no sign of the Pokémon from the shield wall barring a few panicked stragglers in hasty retreat below Myra and the Salamence, but neither of the two were focusing on anyone but each other, with the Dragon-type curling his maw up into a toothy sneer.
"You should know when you're beaten, Staraptor!" the drake roared. "That deserter of a Steelix may not have a bright future ahead of him, but if you yield here, perhaps I'll find it in my heart to vouch for you to receive a lesser sentence!"
It didn't take long to gather that the Salamence's offer fell on deaf ears, as Myra glared and spat back with audible venom in her voice.
"Blow your hot air someplace else, you overgrown skink!"
Lyle and his fellows watched as the Staraptor dove for the Salamence with a blistering aerial tackle, her blow striking the joint of his left wing and making him bellow in pain. The Salamence faltered in the air for a moment and fought to stay airborne, baring his fangs and narrowing his eyes into a hateful glare.
"So sei es! Du hast dieses Schicksal ausgewählt, Ganovin!"ᴰ¹
The Salamence tore for the Staraptor as electrical sparks flared up and began to dance about his fangs. The Outlaw leader tried to wheel out of the way, only for the Salamence to swoop in and bite down on her left wing with an audible crunch that made the hawk scream in pain.
"A-AAAGH!"
Lyle flinched and shivered as Myra's cries echoed through the pocket, the Quilava noticing his Sneasel teammate looking up in blank shock. Up in the air above them, they watched the Salamence wrench Myra's wing back before he knocked her out of the sky and sent her spiraling to the ground with a sickening thud. There, before the wounded Staraptor could attempt to get up, the drake pounced on her with a swipe from a set of claws trailing green flecks of dragonfire, sprawling the Staraptor out limply as Kate's face took on a horrified grimace and she cried out in reflex.
"B-Boss Myra!"
G-Götterblut it was hard to hear Kate like that. Lyle felt Kate brush up against him as the Sneasel shot up and instinctively ran forward, Alvin hastily grabbing her claw and pulling her back with a stammering, wide-eyed stare.
"C-Come on!" Alvin insisted. "We need to go!"
"Hurry it up out there!"
A bellowing cry rang out as the three saw Parker running for the exit, spitting a torrent of water back at the advancing guards just as Dalton, Artem, and Irune slipped into the mist. One after the other, Kate, Lyle, and Alvin fled the upended tent, making a mad dash as attacks and missiles zipped around them.
Lyle yelped as a deafening crack of electricity rang out overhead and a Pidgeotto crashed to the ground just a few paces away from Kate. B-Blauflamme, he could already tell he was going to have trouble sleeping for a while. Just a little further ahead! That exit out of this damned Pocket couldn't come soon enough!
He watched as the Sneasel hastily sprung aside before running for dear life into the fog. From behind, he heard the screams of a Mightyena being pinned to the ground by something big-sounding that let out a loud snarl, along with a low shudder from his Marowak companion who'd evidently seen whatever happened. The Quilava glanced back over his shoulder, where he saw Alvin running for dear life after, but having visibly fallen behind by a good dozen paces.
"Hurry it up, Alvin!" the Fire-type cried. "We're almost there!"
"I-I'm trying!" the Marowak protested. "My kind's not as quick on our feet as yours-!"
Alvin never finished his words, as in the middle of his stride, a slicing gust of air zipped in from overhead from a passing Corvisquire. The Marowak lost his footing and flopped over onto his belly with a weak groan, making Lyle's pupils shrink to pins.
"Alvin!"
No no no. This couldn't be happening. Not now! The Quilava whirled around, running against the few Outlaws still fleeing for the exit as he stooped down beside the Ground-type, desperately trying to tug him onto his feet.
"C-Come on, Alvin! Please get back up!" the stoat pleaded. "The exit's right here!"
The Marowak managed to stumble dazedly onto his feet with Lyle's help, when a hail of pointed stones zipped in and the next thing that Lyle remembered was stabbing pain pockmarking his side. Lyle flopped to the ground with a yelp as his vision started to run muddy and he felt blood ooze from under his pelt. He caught a fleeting glimpse of the Stone Edge sending Alvin flying into a partially toppled tent nearby before the canvas collapsed over him in a heap. Lyle limped up and looked on blankly when he heard ugly laughter behind him, flaring his flames with a start and looking over to see an armored Rhydon sneering down at him.
"Hah, your friend doesn't look so good right now!" the soldier jeered, as he lowered his head and pawed the ground for a charge. "Why don't you join hi- AAAAAAAAGH!"
The Rhydon's jeers were abruptly shut up a blue blur storming in, Lyle screwed his eyes shut and recoiled as something large and bulky stormed in. He flinched as he heard the Ground-type screaming in pain and the sound of something wrenching out of hide and flesh rang out. Lyle cracked his eyes open and saw Parker draw one of her seamitars back, before shoving the Rhydon aside limply to the ground as a dark, ugly red blotch formed around a large stab through the abdominal segment of the soldier's cloth armor. Lyle laid on his rump still panting and gasping for air as the Samurott spat water over her blade, flicking it to her side along with a spray of ruddy fluid before looking down at him.
"Move!" the Samurott barked. "We've been mining the entrance with Blast Seeds on the way out and I'm blowing the exit behind me!"
"B-But my friend's still-!"
Before Lyle could finish his protest, Parker was grazed in her shoulder by an incoming gout of bluish dragonfire, making her recoil as the pair looked off to see the soldiers' Salamence leader had risen up into the air of the Pocket. Other Grünhäuter had taken wing behind him above the ruined, smoldering encampment, and a veritable horde of Pokémon in green armor charged ahead of him. The few Pokémon still holding up the Protects at the exit had their nerves fail and bolted, Parker shaking feeling back into her forepaw as she shot an impatient glare back at the Quilava.
"There's nothing I can do for your friend!" the Water-type shouted. "Either come along or stay here and take your chances fighting it out with these Grünhäuter on your own!"
Parker spat up a large orb of water and fanned it out along the ground, kicking it forward into a wave that tore along the ground for the front lines of the advancing soldiers. Sensing a narrow opportunity, Lyle darted for the collapsed tent that Alvin had been knocked into, when a stony projectile zipped just past his face.
Lyle stumbled back and yelped, the roar of charging Pokémon reverberating in his mind and his blood ran cold. His breath tightened as suddenly all he could think about was the prospect of being all alone, getting picked apart by those soldiers once the exit was cut off.
The Quilava lowered his head before he turned and bolted for the exit of the Pocket. He felt a lump in his throat as the collapsed tent slipped from view, as a single thought kept reiterating in his mind and leaked shakily over into his mouth.
"I-I'm sorry."
Lyle screamed and his mind went blank as a spray of water zipped just past his left shoulder. The Quilava let out a low whimper and bounded ahead as fast as his legs could carry him, throwing himself forward with a lunge that made the surrounding world blur in his vision. The last of the destroyed encampment vanished as he plunged headfirst into the mist. Five paces. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty. The world suddenly spun about him as a deafening blast rang out with a hot flash of heat that reminded him of when he was too slow to close the furnace in his parents' shop hit him from behind, as a concussive wave knocked him off his feet.
Lyle pitched forward and fell to the ground with his ears ringing, instinctively curling up into a ball as his hearing slowly returned to pick up the sound of his breaths coming out in tired, frightened pants. He could hear fire on his body sputtered audibly from exhaustion, and now that the adrenaline was ebbing from his body, he could feel the accompanying aches of his battered frame. Heavy footsteps approached and a large shadow suddenly fell over him. The Fire-type flinched and screwed his eyes shut, bracing for the sharp blow that would perhaps be the last thing he remembered of the world about him.
"Get up."
Lyle warily cracked his eyes open, looking up to see Parker scowling down at him, visibly brushing at a singed patch of hide on her shoulder.
"It will take time for those Grünhäuter to dig out the exit," she harrumphed. "You should make the most of this respite while you can."
Parker shook her head and continued off along the path, the Samurott's shell-headed form melting into the mist. Lyle got up and wearily retraced his steps back towards the mouth leading into the Pocket, where there he found a wall of blasted rock, along with a few charred husks of spent Blast Seeds. The Quilava stood there wordlessly for a moment, pawing at the stones as he tried to blink back tears from the corners of his eyes. The stoat turned away and headed off into the mist, his voice hitching as he could muster but one word from the back of his throat:
"D-Dammit… Dammit!"
Author's Notes:
Words and Phrases:
1. Prost! - Drinking expression roughly equivalent to "Cheers!"
2. Glühwein - A type of mulled wine. Traditionally made and served in winter, especially around Christmas. Thus the joke about the bottle's prior owner being impatient for winter.
3. Leichensammler - Roughly "Corpse(s) gatherer". In-setting term for one who scavenges the bodies of dead Wilders for meat as a trade.
4. Milza - "Axew".
5. Beiname - "Byname", "Epithet".
6. Nebelmond - "November" (archaic), lit. "Fog Moon".
7. Stabsoffiziere - "Staff Officers". Analogous concept to "Senior Officers" in English military parlance.
Dialogue:
D1. "So sei es! Du hast dieses Schicksal ausgewählt, Ganovin!" - "So be it! You chose this fate, Outlaw!" (Note, addressed to female, thus 'Ganovin' and not 'Ganove'.)
Teaser Text - Special thanks to TorchicBellow for Translation:
Newangle City, 13. Herbstmond, 1027 n. d. B.
To Graf Lacan von Wellenhafen,
It brings us great pleasure to hear that after a year of pursuit, you have finally been able to secure the very Dyad we once had feared had been lost. After more than seven decades of war with the Kingdom of Edialeigh that outlasted my father and his father, going as far back to the reign of King Sansa, a decisive and lasting end is at long last within our reach.
Our only regret is that the Dyad's mind would be so poisoned by corrupting influences to the point of fleeing from you when you came to collect her. I had hoped that surely she could be reasoned with, but after all the tales you've passed of the circles she fell into over the past year, perhaps it is for the best to be sterner with her until that childish impudence is shed.
After all, while it would be ideal to secure the Dyad's cooperation prior to undertaking Operation Sparkᵃ, it is not strictly needed for its success. We and our realm do not have the luxury of derailing it over matters of mere states of the mind. It was already a miracle of fate that the Dyad would be found here in our realm and not in the Kingdom of Edialeigh as the royal seers feared, and it is a miracle we do not intend to squander.
As such, it is imperative that the Dyad be fielded for Operation Spark by any means necessary, even if it requires you and the Fähnlein under your command to transgress the laws and customs of our realm. You and I both know how grave the potential consequences of failure are for this realm, but in the balance lies the greatest hope the Kingdom of Varhyde has had in generations:
What we can finally call 'Our Peace' to break this kingdom free of its cycle of hardship that has plagued it through the ages, and 'Our Vengeance' to repay this land and its inhabitants' wounds with fireᶜ.
- Letter from König von Wahrheitᵈ, Siegmund Wieshusᵉ to Graf von Wellenhafen, Lacan Dragorans
a. 'Zündfunke' in German, while commonly rendered as 'spark' in English, is more accurately an 'ignition / igniting spark', as in one that starts a fire or process of combustion.
b. 'Friede' is a very formal rendering of 'peace' in German, in more normal contexts, it would be 'Frieden'.
c. The original construction of "Feuer und Flamme" is more accurately "fire and flame", but carries an equivalent sentiment here.
d. Nobiliary title for "King of Varhyde" in this setting. Takes on some other meanings in a more literal translation, but that's another story for another day.
e. This technically ought to be 'Wie-Shus(ohn)', but that looks fairly awkward written out, so nonstandard spellings it is.